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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/26181604">Cataphile</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/Somethingwonderfulneversaid/pseuds/Somethingwonderfulneversaid'>Somethingwonderfulneversaid</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Doctor Who (2005)</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>#skeletons #mild-moderate peril, F/M</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>In-Progress</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-08-29</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-08-30</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-06 04:55:04</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Teen And Up Audiences</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>Graphic Depictions Of Violence</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>2</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>1,826</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/26181604</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/Somethingwonderfulneversaid/pseuds/Somethingwonderfulneversaid</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>“I really wish this hadn’t been a distress call” Rose whispered, trying desperately to keep the fear from her voice. “I wish it had been an invitation to tea and we could’ve politely declined. Sent some flowers. Or a cake.”</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Ninth Doctor &amp; Rose Tyler, Ninth Doctor/Rose Tyler</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>4</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>9</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>1. Chapter 1</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>Finally putting my Doctorate in Archaeology to some use! The descriptions in this story are based on my studies (and fears!!!) when investigating places which hold human remains. I hope to update weekly. The term Cataphile is used to describe those who tour the tunnels below Paris illegally, as only a small section is open to the public. </p>
<p>I don't own Doctor Who sadly.</p>
    </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>“<em>I really wish this hadn’t been a distress call</em>” Rose whispered, trying desperately to keep the fear from her voice. “<em>I wish it had been an invitation to tea and we could’ve politely declined. Sent some flowers. Or a cake</em>.”</p>
<p>“<em>Not much call for cake down here</em>.” The Doctor replied grimly as he struggled to see into the gloom. He pushed the light from the Sonic Screwdriver further away from them, increasing the power, as much as he could.</p>
<p>Surrounding them the walls were stacked with bones. The bones had been carefully been piled to create walls, arranged by size and shape, but not by individual. The remains were piled so thick that they absorbed the light from the torches placed sporadically down the corridor. The waxy musk of skeletal remains lingered in mid-air and clung to their skin in an oily sheen.</p>
<p>Rose pushed down the panic rising in the back of her throat and silently concentrated on the feel of the Doctor’s hand in hers. Sensing her distress, the Doctor tightened his grip on her.</p>
<p>The corridor had started off humid, but as they had travelled deeper, the air had become cool and clammy. The Parisian Catacombs, the Doctor had explained, had started life as limestone mines and the rock taken from them had been used to build the beautiful city. But in the late 18<sup>th</sup> Century, a series of collapses in the cemeteries across Paris had prompted a grisly move of hundreds of thousands of bodies to the underground ossuary.   The bodies had to be moved at night, so scared were the people of the power of the dead as they relocated across the city.</p>
<p>The catacombs had not been on the itinerary. High tea at Versailles had been cut short as a desperate scrawl appeared on the Doctor’s psychic paper:  <br/><em><br/>Please help. Trapped beneath the city. Entered at the Gates of Hell. Come quick. Water rising</em>.</p>
<p>The Doctor and Rose had bundled themselves back into the TARDIS and headed straight for the 19<sup>th</sup> Century gates to the catacombs; Barrière d'Enfer – known as the Gates of Hell. There were 170 miles of tunnels. Rose felt her stomach lurch as she tried to imagine that distance. The walls felt suddenly closer. They hadn't been walking more than 20 minutes, even with the Doctor's long legs, they could not have travelled more than a mile and a half. They hadn't seen anyone since entering the tunnels. Skittering noises occasionally punctuated the silence between their footsteps which Rose desperately hoped were caused by mice and rats. The tunnel abruptly widened to an intersection. The space was vaulted with dark stone columns, holding up the ceiling of latticed bones. </p>
<p>Rose smoothed out the front of her light moss green dress with her free hand. The bottom of the dress had already become damp, and her satin shoes sodden. The TARDIS wardrobe had kindly provided it, so she didn’t outrage delicate sensibilities. She bounced on the balls of her feet with a nervous energy, as if as though stopping her movement would keep her in the darkness longer. The dress was grander than the dress than she had met Charles Dickens in, with fluted sleeves and heavier skirts, but their surroundings were proving adequate distraction from the weight of the fabric, the pull of the corsetry and the squish of her wet shoes and stockings.</p>
<p>Hundreds of eye sockets looked back at them. Rose placed a handkerchief over her nose and mouth and willed herself not to think about the particles of bone dust which their footsteps had undoubtedly kicked up.</p>
<p><em>“Which</em> way?" Rose whispered, as though not wanting the occupants of the catacombs to hear them. </p>
<p>“The note said the water was rising – we need to head south, towards the bend of the river, the lowest part of the water table. so technically any of those tunnels could be it” the Doctor responded, trying to shake the feeling they were being watched.</p>
<p>“Well, all four options look equally terrible.” Rose replied. “We used to watch the Scarlet Pimpernel every Sunday night. Me and Mum together on the sofa in our dressing gowns. The BBC never sent Richard E Grant down here!!! Its not as romantic and swashbuckling as they made it out to be, not with this many dead people watching". </p>
<p>The Doctors eyes darkened with a sadness Rose couldn't quite place. The shadows cast in the half light made him look older, and the burden he carried heavier. He shot her a half smile that didn't quite reach his eyes. Then, as quickly as it had gone, the energetic veil was back in place, and he jumpstarted himself back into life. </p>
<p>"Right, m'lady" he affected a posh London accent, and proffered his arm as though he was escorting Rose to a ball. "This way smells the dampest and most awful, which makes it probably the one we need!"  </p>
<p>Rose took his arm, and squeezed it, beaming at him, despite the cold, despite the dark, despite the dead. They set off into the left hand corridor, which was narrower than the one they had entered in. </p>
<p>Behind them, the shadows lengthened and darkened.</p>
<p> </p>
<p> </p>
<p> </p>
<p> </p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0002"><h2>2. Chapter 2</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>“Hello?” the Doctor called out, sounding much more confident than he felt. There was no sign of anyone who needed their help. His northern baritone bounced down the corridor ahead of him, unanswered.</p><p>The corridor that they’d chosen off the atrium had narrowed considerably and he and Rose were now shuffling sideways. One side of the corridor was cold and mossy rock which had become progressively clammy the further they had gone. The other side was an elaborate funerary arrangement, the bones stacked impossibly neatly. Skulls were placed in neat rows providing a macabre border to the wallpaper that the tibias and fibulas had created. The other corridors had been much wider, designed to allow visitors, both tourists and mourners. This one appeared to be something of service corridor, created to allow the miners and gravediggers to expand the capacity of the catacombs. He could still see where the mattocks and pick axes had hewn the space from the natural limestone for the temporary resting place for these souls. In the main corridors, the stacked remains were done so tightly that none of the walls could be seen.  </p><p>Despite the fact he was fairly sure they were the first visitors in at least a few years to this section, and he was fairly sure there was not an alien presence, something prickled anxiously the back of his mind. How much further would they have to go? Who would be this far down the tunnels but leave no physical trace? And how had they managed to transmit their distress psychically?</p><p>He glanced down at his companion, who was plastered against the rock side of the corridor. Rose was trying to flatten herself against the cold limestone, as they scooted down the corridor. She was trying to create the maximum space between herself and the skeletons, but also trying to keep her composure and do it in the most nonchalant way possible. If you didn’t know Rose, she would seem unaffected. The Doctor, however, recognised the signs of when she was being brave for him, despite her own growing distress. Her breathing was shallow, and her hair, which had been styled into golden ringlets, clung to her neck as she struggled to control her body temperature.</p><p>“I think I preferred the basement in Cardiff” The Doctor told her, and was rewarded with a weak smile.</p><p>“There’s another atrium up ahead I think, should be easier to walk from then on” He bluffed, he hoped convincingly. There was something up ahead but at the moment it was just a dark hole.</p><p>Two or three more awkwardly shuffling minutes later, the Doctor and Rose stepped out into a smaller opening. It was circular, and empty. There was no way out. The Doctor felt his stomach sink. He felt Rose step closer to him, as she realised the situation and assessed the fact that she was going to have to return the way she came.</p><p>Rose reached for the Doctors hand as the ground beneath his feet crumbled. She caught a large fistful of leather jacket as he tumbled into the sudden maw. The Doctor landed on his backside, covered in soil, mud and dust. He had only fallen three or four feet. There was solid stone beneath him and Rose teetered on the edge of the hole above him. The Doctor put his arms out, feeling blindly for the edges of the space. He was met with smooth carved limestone, carefully worked into curved walls. He realised he was at the top of a spiral staircase. Someone or something had covered the top of the staircase, and had taken a worrying amount of care to make it look like no one had been there.</p><p>"Are you okay?!" Rose exclaimed, reaching downwards as best she could within the constraints of the dress. The Doctor grasped Rose's hands and pulled himself back to standing, almost overbalancing her.</p><p>"I'm fine," he responded, after a quick mental scan that confirmed he had the correct number of everything in the correct places. He glared down into the staircase, still holding Rose's hands.</p><p>"You know" Rose began, and he met her gaze "One of my favourite cartoons when I was little was Funnybones. It started with the same poem every time..." She closed her eyes and then began to recite...</p><p>
  <em>
    <strong>"In a dark, dark town there was a dark, dark street<br/>
and in the dark, dark street there was a dark, dark house,<br/>
and in the dark, dark house there were some dark, dark stairs<br/>
and down the dark, dark stairs there was a dark, dark cellar<br/>
and in the dark dark cellar….</strong>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <strong>Three skeletons lived".</strong>
  </em>
</p><p>The Doctor grinned, he was constantly in awe of her ability to see the best in every situation, no matter how dark. Rose took a deep breath and then said - "I really hope it's the friendly sort of skeletons at the bottom of these dark stairs. I always wanted the skeleton dog, but now I am not sure I am quite as keen."</p><p>"Someone didn't want anyone knowing these stairs were here;" the Doctor replied "I think we need to find out why". He moved his hands to Rose's waist and helped her down into the first few stairs. The steps meant they were almost nose to nose, compensating for their difference in height. "I don't think you need to worry about the skeletons, they almost never reanimate."  Rose's eyes widened in shock and the Doctor chuckled. Before he could think what he was doing, he lent forward and kissed her cheek. The flush that came to her cheeks was more than worth the journey of the last hour. Holding the Sonic Screwdriver aloft, he turned and began to descend the stairs, tucking Rose behind him. </p><p> </p><p> </p><p> </p><p> </p><p> </p><p> </p><p> </p><p> </p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>The Funnybones belong to Janet and Allan Ahlberg - who were a wonderful part of my childhood - Rose and I are very close in age (I was 16 in 2005) so I think she would have watched it growing up too as we are both from the UK. Here is the goodreads link, for anyone who wants to see the friendly skeletons: https://www.goodreads.com/series/71096-funnybones</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
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